A Cure for Loneliness
by Liv Wilder
Summary: Season 2 AU. "It was Memorial Day weekend and with his daughter off in California visiting her mother, Richard Castle, mystery writer and fêted man-about-town, was at a dangerous loose end."
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Set season two, sometime after 2x05: "When The Bough Breaks." The rating for this story will rise to 'M' in chapter 7._

* * *

 _A Cure for Loneliness_

 _Chapter 1_

It was Memorial Day weekend and with his daughter off in California visiting her mother, Richard Castle, mystery writer and fêted man-about-town, was at a dangerous loose end. Dangerous because bored and left to his own devices, Rick Castle could easily revert to the toys of a boy in a flash. A playboy, that is. And the toys of a boy in the hands of a man with so much money and charm at his disposal...well, that equaled dangerous in anyone's lexicon.

Currently between women and with all of his writer buddies otherwise engaged he had decided to roam the city of his birth as a tourist. It was kind of a pathetic distraction but it was working as far as he'd pushed it. So he resolved not to question himself too deeply or to peer too closely at the whys and wherefores of his inexplicable single status. He was just going to explore his city and enjoy the ride wherever it took him.

A quick browse through _New York Magazine's_ restaurant section had brought him here, to the door of _Chez Elise:_ a chi-chi little breakfast place on the corner of Greenwich Street and Harrison. Open for just a couple of months, this artisanal bakery-come-bistro had already gained a reputation for some of the best breakfast muffins in Tribeca, and Rick Castle was nothing if not a connoisseur of New York's finest baked goods. Though first and foremost, he was a connoisseur of New York's Finest.

The stylish gray door, with its uber-French lace curtain and tinkling bell, opened onto a textbook tile floor. The black and white checkerboard design was doubtless reclaimed from somewhere equally well-intentioned; some other dream foodie project that had sadly failed to capture the zeitgeist long enough to gain a foothold and succeed.

Inside, the entire scene was ripped from the pages of an _Architectural Digest_ spread. More expensively painted surfaces greeted him left and right: wood paneling and decorative moldings in a matte, Pottery Barn palette of olives and grays. The art on the walls was a series of framed black and whites - of course, they were - and the window behind the front desk was glazed in vintage, rough-rolled glass. The only splash of color in the entryway came from a pink potted orchid sitting atop the hostess station. That, and the tall, slender woman leaning against said counter with a cloth shopping bag over one shoulder and a snazzy little camel hat on her head.

* * *

The pleasant hum of chatter and the occasional clink of cutlery filtered through from the dining room beyond the heavy velvet curtain. Castle was relieved to feel the bulk of a folded _New York Times_ beneath his arm. He hated dining alone with nothing to read, always catching someone's eye. And how awkward that could get, depending on the 'someone,' of course, and once, the actual eye, which turned out to be glass and not exactly under its owner's control; always fixated on him no matter where the old dear turned her head.

Speaking of someone, the mystery woman at the desk half turned, and something sharp stabbed Castle in the chest. A familiar enough feeling by now in certain settings, he had to pause a moment to catch his breath against its incongruity in the here and now.

Before he could speak, she was already filling the space around them with generous words from beneath the brim of her natty little hat.

"Oh, I'm sorry…please. Go ahead. I have… _all_ the time in the world," she offered, sweeping out her hand to allow him to take her place at the desk while she took a step back to wait.

Finally, she raised her head and looked at him square on. The soft, welcoming expression she evidently wore for total strangers morphed into puzzled recognition and then something akin to blind panic, all in the blur of an instant. Her cheeks flushed. He hoped with pleasure, but then he couldn't be sure.

" _Castle?_ " she exclaimed, and he watched with some satisfaction as her hand flew to the very low v-neck of her sweater, her lilac bra visible beneath the fine knit.

"Beckett!" he exclaimed right back since it seemed like the thing to do.

"What are you—?" She cocked her head to one side, smiling all of a sudden. "Is Alexis with you?" She looked far brighter at the prospect that this might be the case, and that pleased him no end. Kate Beckett _really_ liked his little girl.

But he had to shake his head as she peered around him looking for his redheaded child. "In California. With her mother. Long weekend," he explained, though it sounded like more of an apology.

"Oh, so you're—"

 _"Miss?"_

Before Kate could mask her disappointment that he was indeed here by himself, the hostess reappeared at her elbow with a menu tucked under her arm. "Miss, I'm so sorry for your wait. We have a lovely table all set up for you now."

The woman beamed and Kate flinched. "Right. Yes, thank you. I'll just…"

She turned back to look at Castle, caught in that awkward white space of social responsibility. Did she leave him out here by himself? Was he meeting someone else perhaps and how did she feel about that? Should she—

He made the decision for her. "Well, enjoy your breakfast, detective," he said, brusquely shaking her hand. "I hear the carrot and cinnamon muffins are simply _to die for_." Mercifully, he mouthed the last three words. Given their trade, it seemed appropriate not to tempt fate.

Kate was shown to her table in a daze. She couldn't shake the feeling of having left something behind. Eventually, following much lip chewing and soul searching, she asked her waitress to offer Castle the empty place at her table, after she spotted him hanging out by the hostess station either trying to chat the young woman up or attempting to bribe her to get a table of his own. She took pity on him, in truth. They were just two people, roaming the city on a public holiday. Two people who were almost friends with nothing better to do. They could share a table and eat brunch together, no problem.

What could possibly go wrong?

* * *

The table was situated in the center of the room. Not at all what Castle would have chosen. Not that Kate had had a choice in the matter either since the place was full to capacity. So they were surrounded on all sides.

 _'Islands in the stream'_ , he sang in his head as he approached. Kate looked like a rare and unusual exhibit in a museum, calmly floating amidst the cacophony of pseuds and scenesters: the Tribeca mommies exclaiming over the cost of daycare and the gall of the diva nanny demanding overtime, a gym membership and a car service home every night. She had her simple cloth bag hung over the back of her chair, the menu set out in front of her. The jaunty camel trilby really suited her. He made a mental note to tell her this later.

He spotted a copy of that week's _New York Magazine_ poking out of one corner of her bag just as he took his seat. From the cover design, he could tell that it was the same issue he'd left at home. He felt his kinship with the good detective grow a little more.

Yes, ' _Islands in the stream, that is what we are.'_ The singing in his head got louder.

Castle thanked Kate for her generosity and began to settle himself, unaccountably nervous all of a sudden. He adjusted his pants three times to rid himself of a wedgie.

Kate took a sip from her water glass to mask a smirk. "You okay over there?"

"Just peachy," Castle answered peppily without meaning to.

Kate grinned wider. Her eyebrow shot up. " _Peachy?_ So I see."

Castle coughed to hide his nerves, but when he took a drink of water Kate noticed that his hand was shaking. "You sure you're okay?"

"Low blood sugar," he lied, waving to the waitress for an extra menu.

"Right," she nodded. But she wasn't buying his act.

Working with Castle could be infuriating. However, lately, they'd found a rhythm and it was comfortable. But this - being alone with him outside of work and with no alcohol on hand – _this_ felt a lot like starting from scratch. In fact, it had all the hallmarks of a blind date. Without the blind part, obviously. Or the alcohol.

Kate found this train of thought disturbing, so she was grateful when Castle stepped in, shutting it down with a series of probing questions.

"So…not seeing Lanie this weekend?" the inquisitive writer asked. Deep sea fishing by means of idle enquiry.

She smiled, tight-lipped and mouthed, "Nope." Her lips made a popping sound on the P. Castle flicked out his tongue to wet his own lips while oggling hers. Kate saw it all.

"Espo?" he asked brightly, eyeballing her as if he knew something and was pushing her to confess first.

"Seeing someone."

"Ah." He tapped the side of his nose and winked. "Say no more. And Ryan?"

She shook her head. "We don't really…no." Her answer ended in a bashful smile, almost a laugh, at the thought of hanging out with Ryan by herself. Castle took heart from this – she was here with him after all, even if it was the result of _serendipity_. A word, he noted for the first time ever, which actually ended in the word: _'pity.'_ Oh dear.

"Right." He nodded, and it was back to being awkward, a lack of flow to their conversation when, usually, he couldn't shut up.

"Well, sometimes after work," Kate conceded to be polite and fill the void. "Drinks, you know, just…" she shrugged, off-hand. "But never on weekends," she told him with her chin tipped up, like it was some badge of honor to be a loner.

"I hate being alone," Castle confessed without forethought to how that might look or sound, today of all days: dining in a trendy French bistro by himself, his mother and daughter off gallivanting with lives of their own.

How sad it might look.

Kate buried her nose in her fancy menu, staving off the requirement to reply to this needy, and rather pitiful, remark. Usually, she wanted to gag him. Gag him or sha—

Yeah, definitely not going there.

"Wow, these prices," she muttered for something else to say.

When he didn't reply, she looked up to find him pouring over his own menu with an expression of disappointment and disdain.

"Want to get out of here?" he asked, snapping the leather folder shut.

It was a gamble, a big risk. The only reason they were sitting together at all was the need to share a table. If they left this spot, who knew what might happen. But she was right: this place, with its white linens, $14 basket of muffins and artisanal bread, really wasn't them.

Kate was up and out of her seat before he had finished talking.

 _TBC..._

* * *

 _A/N: This story was written before I wrote and published my last fic, and given this is Memorial Day weekend, I thought I may as well put it up here as sling it in the trash file. The photo that prompted the story is the cover art and will also be posted on Twitter, as usual._

 _I just want to say that I only know of one way to write these characters. So, if you know my style and you hate it and yet keep coming back to read, I think that qualifies you under the definition of insanity. You will not get a different outcome from my stories, so please stop banging your head. I'm incapable of satisfying everyone's tastes, no one is, not even AWM or ABC achieved that. Please pick your authors to suit your personal taste, there's plenty to go around._

 _If you want to leave a word or two of thanks, that would be much appreciated. Thank you for reading. There will be no author's note with following chapters you'll be glad to hear. Just a new chapter every day or two at the most. There are eight chapters in total. Cheers, Liv_


	2. Chapter 2

_A Cure for Loneliness_

 _Chapter 2_

Things seemed different once they were out on the sidewalk. Inside the restaurant the over-priced menu and their very public spot in the center of the room had governed their lives. Sharing a table, the expectation that they were going to be spending time together was a given. But out here the world was their oyster, and Richard Castle had no idea if Kate Beckett even liked oysters.

The writer rubbed his neck and stared past her up the street. A warm wind came racing in off the Hudson. Kate touched her fingers to her hat to keep it in place.

"Looks great on you. The hat. Meant to say back there." Castle mumbled the words like a teenage boy unused to giving out compliments.

Kate didn't seem to notice. She just smiled at his sincerity and thanked him anyway.

His heart was heading for his feet. He was all out of inspiration and had zero idea how to turn this chance meeting into something more certain again. The over-priced muffins and the corporate trophy wives were starting to look all kinds of appealing. So much so that he began to wish that he'd never suggested they leave the uptight bistro. It wasn't as if he couldn't afford a $14 basket of muffins. He could buy the whole goddam bistro if he wanted!

"Hey, how about ice cream?" Kate suggested out of the blue, and he thought he heard the angels sing. "You like ice cream, right?"

His grin was wider than the sun. "Beckett, you know just the way to a man's heart."

"Yeah. Cholesterol, apparently," she joked, earning herself a hearty laugh from her co-conspirator.

"We could go to Jacques Torres," Castle finally had the brainwave to suggest. One of the best Chocolatier and ice cream shops in the city.

Kate nodded, though less enthusiastically than he would have expected. "Yeah, we could… _or…_ "

"What? You have a better idea than Jacques Torres, _I_ for one wanna hear it."

"There's a snack bar over on Pier 25. Right by the skatepark. I'm pretty sure they sell ice cream," she added with a simple shrug.

"But Jacque Torres, Beckett. Mr. Chocolate himself," Castle pleaded, throwing in puppy dog eyes for added effect.

" _Yeah_ , is about as over-priced as that bistro we just left. Come on. We can get ice cream, take a walk along the river…it'll be nice. I promise."

And how could he argue against that logic? Kate Beckett, who, until a couple of weeks ago, had appeared to hate him with every fiber of her being was now actually suggesting that they hang out together. And not just because of some stupid scarcity of restaurant tables. Through actual choice. In addition, how could he not love her low-key simplicity and her lack of pretension? What other woman - and Richard Castle knew _a lot_ of women - would eschew the luxury of a pricey, high-end chocolate store for a snack bar out on a pier? So, yes, he loved that she had simple tastes, that she was unfussy and not in the least bit vain in any way that she allowed to show. Not to say that she wasn't pretty or took care over her appearance or had a sophisticated intellect that could give him a run for his money any day of the week. But she'd never struck him as the high-maintenance type, and today she was proving that to be true all over again.

* * *

This whole situation put Castle in such an introspective mood that he fell silent for a while. They walked up Greenwich Street for two blocks and then crossed over when they got to North Moore, heading for the Hudson River Park. The breeze coming off the water was welcome on such a warm day, and Castle watched as Kate took off her hat and put it into her cloth shopping bag. Her hair was drawn back into a neat French braid, which she teased out with her fingers until the wind whipped through it and it was allowed to fly free around her face. With the sun warming her cheeks to a healthy pink, she looked very young and very pretty.

"I liked the braid," Castle said, giving her a shy, sidelong glance. "Just for the record." He stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Not that this look isn't good too," he hurried to add in case she thought he was being critical. Inside his stomach churned.

Kate smiled to herself, lightly amused by how nervous and clumsy he seemed today. Less swagger and more sweet sincerity. "I will remember that. It may come in handy in future," she told him with a shy smile of her own.

"Oh?" This piqued his interest.

Kate gave a half-shrug. "You never know when you might have to impress a guy."

"And…what? I'm the weathervane for all guys?"

"I could crack a joke about you being _vain_ , but I will not. No, I…" She shrugged again, out of elegant ways to explain which weren't, 'I actually quite fancy you.'

"Doesn't matter," she muttered.

He'd missed her point. She had tried to clarify, but it got too sticky. Especially given their recent history.

"Beckett?"

"No, it was a dumb thing to say. Just…thanks for the compliment, Castle."

She couldn't tell him that there might come a day when she wanted to impress _him_ , and if she had to wear her hair in a braid to do so then that's what she would do. But for now, she was happy to walk with him in the sunshine on a public holiday and enjoy his company.

That she had already impressed him more than any woman ever had was a fact that seemed to have slid right by her. No number of novels or dedications would prove to this woman just how extraordinary Richard Castle believed her to be, or so it would appear. But that would be a matter for time.

* * *

The Sweet Love Snack Bar, for that's what the refreshment stand on Pier 25 was called, had attracted quite a line. Mothers, fathers, lots of little kids and their nannies clearly had the same desire for ice cream on a hot day.

"Why don't you find us seat facing the water?" Castle suggested. "I can wait in line."

"Are you sure?" She felt guilty leaving him, but a seat in the shade would be nice. She'd worn cropped black pants today of all days, so that even with her ankles bare she was feeling a little warm.

"Yeah. No sense both of us waiting. You go. I'll come find you."

"Okay, well, I'll be down by the volleyball courts," she called, already walking backward away from him with her sunglasses perched on top of her head. She looked all kinds of cool. The coolest women Rick Castle had ever known, that was for sure.

When she turned to walk away, Castle couldn't take his eyes off her. He watched as she popped her glasses down onto her nose and strode out along the pier in her mannish penny-loafers with her hair flying up around her head like a burnished halo.

"Pretty girlfriend," said a short Korean lady who was ahead of him in the line.

Unsure how to answer the older woman, and not wanting to offend, he simply nodded and offered her a smile of thanks.

When he looked back, Kate was waving to him and pointing to an empty bench she'd managed to secure. It faced the town dock, where seasonal moorings meant a fair number of yachts and other leisure craft were anchored up in the shelter of the little artificial bay. The trees behind the bench would shelter them from the worst of the sun and wind. It was an idyllic spot out of the biz of the city.

Kate had just settled on the bench with her bags beside her when her cell phone rang. She fished it out of her purse and smiled when she saw who was calling. "Hey, there. Missing me already?" she laughed, turning her head to the left and giving Castle a little wave of her fingers.

Castle was momentarily dumbstruck by her question and so he didn't answer right away.

"Castle?" Kate asked, checking the phone's screen in case he had dialed her by mistake and had already hung up. But the line was still open.

"Uh…what flavor ice cream do you want?"

Kate smirked. " _That's_ why you're calling me?"

"Well, yeah…I don't need a weather report since you're sitting right over there. But I forgot to ask about ice cream, so…"

"Do they have chocolate by any chance?" she flashed him a smile she hoped he could see.

"Do aliens have bigger brains than we do?"

"Is that an actual question, Castle?"

"Quick. I'm at the front of the line. Is it chocolate you want?"

"Of course. I thought you knew me by now."

The writer felt a little tremor pass through his insides at the flirtatious familiarity of her question. He played along. "A gentleman never presumes."

Kate laughed. "Hanging up now, Castle. And don't forget the sprinkles."

* * *

When he arrived with two large waffle cones covered with all kinds of garish sprinkles, Kate shook her head in amusement. She thanked him as she reached for the chocolate one, which she assumed was hers. It had a shiny maraschino cherry planted on top. "You know you could have chosen for me," she told him. "I trust you."

Castle took a seat beside her on the bench and he nodded to himself as he did so, absorbing this nugget of information. "After that fiasco with a certain British secret agent, I'm not really sure of anything," he confessed.

Kate was in the midst of plucking the cherry from her ice cream and she turned to frown at him just as she dangled the glistening red fruit over her open mouth. Castle stared at her lips like a dog in the desert with his tongue hanging out.

"Castle, melting!" she warned, quickly handing him a napkin to save his pants from splatter while he licked a dribble of mint choc chip off the back of his hand.

They ate their ice cream in thoughtful silence after that, enjoying the view, the shade, the balmy breeze and this surprise gift of companionship on such a beautiful day.

"Do you regret not taking the gig? The British secret agent who shall remain nameless, I mean?" she asked at length.

Castle shook his head. "Honestly? No. No, not at all. That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean? You said you weren't sure of anything."

"Actually, what I really meant was that I wasn't sure about anything...with you."

In truth he was pretty sure of his own feelings, he just wasn't sure of Kate's feelings towards him. She hadn't exactly seemed pleased when he told her he wasn't abandoning Nikki Heat for pastures new. But she had seemed upset at the prospect that he might be leaving before the whole situation turned on its head. She was complicated, that was for sure.

So he wasn't surprised when she deflected his opening remark, instantly. "Wow! Bit of a dark subject for such a sunny day."

He smiled softly, knowingly. "It's okay. You're right. Forget I said anything. Don't mean to be a buzzkill. I'm sorry."

"Wanna take a walk?" she asked after a beat of awkward silence in which they both just stared at a woman in short shorts and a tight little tank top who was mopping the deck of a boat that was tied up in front of them.

Kate's suggestion threw him. She'd shut down any personal talk and he'd been pretty sure he'd blown it; that her next move would be to excuse herself and dive into the back of the nearest cab. Alone.

Fighting nerves and tempering his hopes, he reached for her used tissues and scrunched them up with his own. "Sure. A walk sounds pretty perfect." He offered her his hand once he was standing and, after gathering her bags, she graciously accepted his help to get to her feet.

"So, which way?" he asked when he returned to her side after dumping their trash.

Kate looked around her. "Uh…wanna walk north for a little bit?"

"Sounds good."

What neither of them was saying was that this walking idea was nothing more than a smokescreen. It was a delaying tactic allowing them to spend a little more time together. Castle was inwardly delighted when he figured this out. But where he really needed to be, he quickly realized, was two steps ahead. He needed to make a plan that turned this walk into drinks, magicked the drinks into dinner and then…who knows.

* * *

"Did you have plans for today?" Kate surprised him by asking a few moments later.

They were walking side-by-side next to the Hudson, just another couple is a sea of happy people all enjoying the public holiday and some glorious New York weather.

"Plans?" Castle murmured since his mind had wandered elsewhere for a second.

"Yeah. Dinner? Drinks with friends, a trip out to your house in the Hamptons…" she shrugged, leaving it open for him to fill in the blank.

"Oh, that. No," he shook his head. "The visit to Chez Elise _was_ my plan."

"Gee, Castle, and I ruined it. I'm sorry." Now she felt really bad. In truth, he had seemed a little lost since she first met him today. He was unquestionably more subdued and had less to say for himself than usual.

"Hey, no. You didn't ruin it. I'd much rather be out here walking with you than stuck in some overpriced, stuffy bistro wondering which MILF is going to proposition me on the way to the bathroom."

Kate burst out laughing.

 _"What?"_ Castle demanded, indignantly, though he couldn't keep a smile off his own face for long. "What's so funny, Detective?"

" _You,_ " she laughed. "You are _so_ vain." She shook her head but she was still smiling.

He looked pensive after she playfully bumped his shoulder.

"What?" Kate demanded, unwilling to believe he'd taken offense at her teasing remark.

Castle hedged. "Hmm?" he murmured, pretending that he didn't know what she was talking about.

"What's up? I don't like that face," she said.

"Nothing's up. This is just my face."

"Castle, you look like I just _stole_ your ice cream. That's not nothing."

"Fine," he sighed. "I was just thinking how glad I am that we met today."

Kate frowned. "And that makes you sad?"

"No. But I've just been thinking a lot lately about how few friends I have at this point in my life. _Good_ friends." He cast a glance in her direction.

Kate's own smile faltered a little. "I'm glad we met too, Castle. Weekends can sometimes feel... _long_ for me too," she admitted.

All of a sudden, Castle gasped a deep breath, the kind of breath he drew when he'd just come up with some crazy scheme or other. Kate recognized the signs and braced herself.

He grasped her arm. "Hey. Are we missing something obvious here?"

"Such as?" she asked warily.

"You're lonely. I mean not all the time but on days like today…maybe the odd weekend or at vacation time…" he scrambled to add.

Kate narrowed her eyes. "I'm giving you a little leeway here, Castle…tread carefully."

He took another deep breath and plunged in feet first. "What I mean is, we're both lonely. And we get on so well…"

Kate gave him a slightly dubious look.

"We make a great team…" he corrected, before raising his eyebrows as if willing her to arrive at the same point he was making so, so badly.

Kate did a double take. "Are you suggesting that we—"

She cut herself off. Her cheeks flamed and her brows knit together. Ultimately she was too scared to take a risk and make a guess at whatever it was that he was suggesting. Because to Kate, it sounded a lot like he might be implying that they enter into some kind of arrangement, become a couple-of-convenience; like friends with benefits.

"Actually, what _are_ you suggesting?" she asked, stopping in her tracks to look at him.

Castle walked on for a few steps until he realized she wasn't beside him anymore and he had to turn back. Kate was standing still amidst the flow of people with the strangest expression on her face. It was almost as if he'd set out to hurt her by pointing out her loneliness to both of them. Despite the fact that he'd openly admitted to being similarly afflicted.

At the last second, his courage deserted him. He let the door slam shut. "Nothing. I'm…it was stupid. Forgive me. I let my imagination run away with me. I was just enjoying your company and I got a little carried away. That's all. Forget I said anything."

Curiously, Kate sounded disappointed when she replied. "Okay, if you're sure," she said, and they resumed their walk in silence.

 _TBC..._

* * *

 _Thank you for reading._


	3. Chapter 3

_A Cure for Loneliness_

 _Chapter 3_

Their silence lasted the length of two city blocks. They were level with Watts Street. Hang a right and they'd hit Canal. Stay on Watts, cross over Canal and they'd reach Broome Street. From there it was just five short blocks to Castle's loft. Both seemed to be making these mental calculations and finding the answer unpalatable.

Castle most certainly did not want their day together to end so soon, but he was pretty sure that Kate would balk at the idea of coming up to his empty apartment without his noisy, bossy mother to chaperone or his daughter to entertain.

For her part, Kate worried her lower lip at the prospect of saying goodbye to the writer and watching him walk home alone. He was surprisingly good company away from the macho, juvenile influence of the boys at the precinct. And without the presence of other alpha males to strut around and puff up his chest in front of, he had mellowed and matured considerably. She liked this version of Rick Castle more than she probably should.

So she found herself on the horns of a dilemma, and she felt her steps slow as she wracked her brains for something to say, something profound that would hold them in this pleasant bubble of companionship for a little while longer.

"You were right," she finally admitted out of sheer desperation.

 _"Excuse me?"_ Castle laughed in surprise. He jabbed at his chest. " _I_ was right about something? Oh, this day just keeps getting better and better," he admitted as he rubbed his hands together with glee.

But then he saw the look on Kate's face and he realized that she meant he was right about something more serious, something much more significant than some point scoring over a case or a childish bet. _"Oh,"_ he added softly.

Kate nodded. "Yeah. I am lonely. Not all the time. But you were right. I thought I liked my life that way. I told myself that I did. But..." She shook her head from side-to-side.

Castle picked up this thread and tugged at it a little, unraveling some of his own misery. "I didn't really choose to be this way. Just kind of happened. Sometimes I wonder what I did wrong."

Both of them seemed surprised to find themselves sharing so openly. But once they had started they seemed unable to stop. The unraveling process continued of its own accord.

"But it can be good sometimes too. Right?" Kate added with forced brightness. "No one to answer to, just do your own thing. Eat what you want…eat in the _bathtub_ if you want," she laughed, but it sounded horribly hollow. Embarrassingly so.

"Mine is…kind of different from that," Castle admitted. And Kate waited quietly for him to elaborate. "I'm rarely alone…" He threw out a hand in gesture. "Alexis and my mom…but even with a houseful it's possible to feel lonely. I miss that connection you can have with someone special. The intimacy of sharing similar things...or just talking late into the night about anything and everything."

Kate smiled faintly at the picture he was painting even as she was nodding her agreement. "Yeah. And holidays are the absolute worst."

Castle nodded in sympathy. "Like today?"

"Friends are…well, they're all tied up." Her face flushed and she quickly added, "Well, not _literally_ tied up…at least—" Her eyes flared wide at the verbal cul-de-sac she'd backed herself into and Castle laughed.

"It's okay. I know what you meant," he kindly assured her.

"I sort of withdrew after my mom…" she haltingly confessed. "I didn't want people to see me…didn't believe anyone would want to be around the angry, emotional cripple I'd become anyway."

"What? No!" Castle said, forcefully. "Beckett, I think you're amazing."

She smiled, grateful and abashed. She almost felt bad for him that he could like someone like her so much, that he would set his personal bar so low. She had an irrational urge to talk him out of this high opinion he seemed to have of her by listing all of her faults, some he knew about already and others he'd never even guess at. But a scintilla of self-preservation had her murmuring, "Thanks. But you have weird taste in…well, _everything._ "

The writer gasped and clutched his chest, playing the clown she needed him to be in that moment before this conversation descended any further into pathos. "You wound me, Detective."

"I'm just kidding around. I would have missed you if you'd left to write about a certain British Secret Agent," Kate confessed.

"And I would have missed you too," he replied, courteously, with a slightly formal edge to his tone, as if it should be accompanied by a courtly bow.

* * *

Castle watched her without fear of ear twisting or reprimand, and Kate could feel his eyes upon her. When it got to be too much she swung the other way in the pretense of checking where they were. But as a seasoned cop, she knew where she was at all times. Castle saw her play for what it was – a coping mechanism – and he let her have it.

"So…where to now?" she asked, kicking a small stone until is skidded and bounced over the asphalt before rolling beneath the guardrail and disappearing down onto the rocks below.

"If you're not fed up with me yet, how about cocktails?" He waggled his eyebrows at her while simultaneously holding his breath. This was make-or-break for their impromptu date. And should he even be allowing himself that thought – that this was a date? What if Kate Beckett really could read his mind?

While Castle nosedived into a mental tailspin, Kate checked her dad's watch. "Castle, it's only four o'clock. Much and all as that's a nice thought—"

He pulled out of his tailspin right before he crashed and burned, heading off her sensible self with some bravado of his own.

"Then let's just go with _'nice thought._ ' Okay? And find a cozy little bar somewhere. Hmm? It's a public holiday, Beckett. Come on. Let's live a little." He poked her in the shoulder - a brotherly kind of gesture that reeked of challenge - for he knew Detective Beckett was a sucker for a challenge. Bravely, he tipped his chin up. "What do you say? You in?"

It could only have looked more like he was daring her if he'd spit on his palm and then held his hand out for her to shake.

She thought about it for all of ten seconds more and then she gave in with a happy shrug and an exaggerated eye-roll, his favorite. "Fine. Lead the way," she sighed.

* * *

Castle grabbed hold of her hand as they crossed Watts Street just as the lights were changing and they had to make a dash for the other side. Once they were safely on the pavement and headed for Canal Street, reluctantly, he let go.

Kate glanced up at him, but his expression was inscrutable. Her fingers tingled pleasantly from the brief warmth of his touch. She had to admit that she liked it, and then she felt like a schoolgirl with her first crush, and she crossed her arms over her stomach in disapproval while quietly scolding herself for getting so soft. It was just this weekend, she told herself as she put one foot in front of the other. Just another holiday with no big plans and no one special to share them with, the whole thing making her maudlin.

But then there was the man walking beside her. If you did an analysis of Kate Beckett's life - of her contacts, her friends, and family - empirically, this guy: famous mystery novelist and her mother's favorite author, this guy was the closest thing she had to a life partner. If you based your calculations on time spent together, alone. Sure other cops with partners probably spent as much time with their work husband or wife as they did with the person they slept next to at night. But she and Castle were different. They worked together through choice – his choice and the Mayor's choice, admittedly – but they also spent time together outside of work now and again, too. They'd grab dinner after a long day because, basically, neither of them had anyone special to run home to. Oftentimes, they'd lingered over a basket of fries or ordered another round of beers just to avoid the hollowness of a solitary walk or a cab ride home to an empty apartment. At least Kate knew she had. So maybe Castle was right when he had begun to suggest whatever it was he had been on the cusp of suggesting earlier.

Maybe—

"Hey, Beckett. We're here," Castle said, catching her elbow before she marched on past the door to the little speakeasy all by herself.

Kate startled at his touch, so caught up in the tumult taking place inside her brain that she'd momentarily disengaged from her surroundings.

"You okay?" he asked, keeping his hand on her arm for a second or two longer just to steady her. His gentle concern for her showed in the smoky hue of his eyes, and his expression made Kate wonder what secrets her face might be giving away.

She forced a bright smile that she hoped would comfort and reassure him. "Yes. Never better," she said, pushing her musings to one side. "Lead the way."

 _TBC..._

* * *

 _Thanks for reading._


	4. Chapter 4

_A Cure for Loneliness_

 _Chapter 4_

The bar was a little jewel box inside. A speakeasy set one floor below street level in the basement of an old pre-war. The floor of worn wood, the stamped tin ceiling, the mahogany bar with its polished brass rail and the red velvet booths all conspired to give it the air of a time capsule; a tiny museum to Prohibition-era New York. Kate loved it on sight.

"How did you _find_ this place?" she asked, spinning in a circle to take it all in.

"You like it?"

"Like it? I _love_ it," she sighed, turning to thank him for bringing her here.

Castle was beaming from ear-to-ear as he watched Kate soak up the atmosphere of the throwback cocktail joint. He felt warmth settle and spread in his chest just to witness her pleasure over something that gave him an equal amount of pleasure. He felt proud to be able to share a little of _his_ New York with her. And he felt an eagerness tugging at his gut to share even more with her, as well as a deep desire to see into all the little corners of this huge city that were Kate's and Kate's alone. His heart was making plans for them that his head would have to temper if he didn't want today to end in a puddle of disappointment. But for now, he'd concentrate on the look on Kate's face and feel proud at the happiness he'd managed to put there.

"How did I not know about this place?" she wondered aloud as she ran her hand over the sconce of an old Tiffany lamp.

Boldly, Castle suggested, "Maybe you've been hanging out with the wrong guys."

That stopped Kate in her tracks. Indeed, Castle, himself, froze. When she turned her head back to look at him, her face was unreadable, and for one 'oh shit' moment Castle thought he'd ruined everything. But then she allowed a slow smile to spread across her face and when she took a step closer he held his breath. "Buy me a drink and maybe I'll tell you if you're right," she whispered, poking him once in the chest.

Castle swallowed, hard. He felt parts of his body waking up and responding to the challenge she'd just issued. Her provocation had definite sexual undertones that he did not intend to ignore. There was also a directness about it that made him want more of her than he'd ever allowed himself to believe might be possible. Sure, he'd fantasized about having her in his bed - early on and then later, with a lull in the middle where it seemed they were resigned to a sparring kind of friendship, where they flirted but only in the hope of rubbing each other up the wrong way. Today felt different. And maybe it was because he took the Nikki Heat deal and made a commitment to stay. Maybe it was simply the confluence of this holiday and the fact of each of them being alone. Who knew? Whatever it was, Castle pledged to nurture it as best he could so that they could both profit from this chance turn of fate.

"Name your poison, Detective," he smirked, as he headed towards the bar with his stomach churning nervously.

* * *

They were the only customers in the place at this hour which, given it was such a beautiful day outside, was no surprise. Kate claimed a booth in the farthest corner from the door while Castle ordered an Old Fashioned for each of them.

"This feels decadent," she said when he returned with their drinks.

"Okay if I…?" Castle set the pair of tumblers down and gestured to the velvet banquette beside her, rather than sit on one of the low stools on the opposite side of the table.

"Please. I'm sure I can trust you to behave." Her flirtatious tone came from somewhere sober that already seemed a little tipsy, despite her not having touched a drop of alcohol all day.

Castle took this as a good sign. He shuffled in beside her and dragged their drinks across the scarred wood towards them. "I don't know, Beckett. Dark bar where no one knows us? Better keep your hands above the table," was his playful repost.

Unsure how to reply to that, Kate opted to lift her glass and toast her partner to fill the void of silence before it had a chance to grow awkward. "Cheers! Here's to… _chance meetings,_ " she managed to summon up.

"To chance meetings," Castle agreed, clinking his glass against hers. He was unable to stop himself from adding, "And the next weekend or holiday when one of us is at a loose end, we should call. Arrange something." He tried to keep his comment casual, but his voice contained a vein of hope that betrayed him.

Kate eyed him over the top of her glass. "You mean like…a date?" she blurted, and what was it about this place and her lack of filter? Even stone cold sober.

Castle's eyebrows shot up before he could stop them. "Uh, call it what you like. I just think maybe it's time we gave fate the day off."

Kate laughed. " _Fate?_ I see. Is that why we're here?"

Castle shrugged. "I know you don't believe in any of that stuff but…" He stopped talking before he dug himself a deeper hole and began circling the rim of his glass with the tip of his index finger.

The longer Castle remained silent, the more Kate found herself becoming concerned that maybe he was going to leave it there and she wanted to know the rest of his thought, so she nudged him with her shoulder. "Come on, Mulder. You can't stop there," she needled him, playfully.

Castle drew a breath and smiled. "Well, _Special_ _Agent Scully_ , since you're asking. If I had set out to make a plan for today…" He paused for the sake of a little dramatic tension. He was his mother's son, after all.

"Go on," Kate encouraged, unable to keep a grin off her own lips.

"I couldn't have made a better plan than this," he told her in all sincerity.

Kate's grin shrank back to a softer smile of surprise and then she nodded slowly, thoughtfully. After a moment, she lifted her own glass, held it in Castle's direction and said, "I'll drink to that."

* * *

The second round of drinks was on Kate. They briefly fought over it, but she insisted and so Castle backed down graciously. She left him alone in their booth with her purse and tote bag so that she could place their order with the barman and then she went to the bathroom.

When she looked into the antique mirror that hung above the old washbasin, its silver worn to a cloudy bloom by decades of high humidity below ground, she found a flushed, shiny-eyed version of the Kate who had looked back at her before she left her apartment that morning. Then, she had looked balanced and calm, but perhaps a little forlorn around the edges. Now, the face that looked back at her was happy, her spirits lifted; empirical evidence that was hard to refute. Another influencing factor that was equally hard to ignore was that the last few hours she'd spent with her partner were the reason for this change in mood and appearance. Spending time with him was doing her good, unusual as that might have seemed just a short time ago. She stuck her tongue out at her reflection and turned on the faucet.

The water was as icy as a cold spring and she ran it over her wrists, washing her hands while quietly humming to herself. What she did with this information was up to her. But if something made you happy it was perfectly normal to want to continue doing it, right? Just so long as no one got hurt in the process. This final caveat, of course, might turn out to be the deal breaker. But the longer she thought about it, the harder it was to figure out who might be the one getting hurt and who might be the culprit causing the pain between them. Her track record was pretty dismal. And Castle's wasn't great, but for different reasons. She believed him to be the kinder-hearted, the better person of the two. Did she trust herself not to cause him pain somewhere down the line?

She was still mulling this over as she reentered the bar, where she found Castle sitting in the booth by himself, her trilby perched on his large head. It sat atop his crown like a wart on the end of a witch's nose. She couldn't help but laugh. She felt breathless and giddy when she finally edged in beside him. Their shoulders bumped when she overshot her own space in the booth and ended squished up against his side.

"Hey, okay there?" Castle laughed, helping her to right herself.

"I'm great," she sighed happily, leaving her knee pressed up against his, he couldn't help but notice.

When she looked down at the table, their fresh drinks were already there and Castle had a book open in front of him. When he snapped it shut, the cover looked suspiciously familiar. She felt her skin prickle and her spine stiffen.

"Have you been going through my stuff?" she gasped, sliding the book towards her and then burying it beneath the table on her lap.

Castle held his hands up. "I was looking for your hat. I thought it might make you laugh if I put it on. The book just kind of slipped out. I swear."

Kate chewed the inside of her cheek. She could feel a terrible heat burning her face despite the cool atmosphere inside the basement bar.

Castle dropped his hand to her knee and she jumped. He let it settle there for a moment and when she didn't demand that he remove it that instant, he quietly asked, "Wanna tell me about it?"

Kate bit her lip and then slowly she lifted the book up onto the table and laid both her hands on top. The cover was worn to a silky shine; a patina generated by years of frequent handling that had removed some of the color from the embossed lettering on the front. This wear pattern was most prominent across his name where parts of the letter 'd,' in the middle, were almost nonexistent.

"This book belonged to my mother," she explained, haltingly at first. She kept her eyes trained on the back of her hands where they rested on top of the old hardcover.

Castle sat stock still, entranced. Here was a story he wanted to hear. His heart began to beat a little harder.

"She loved your books." Kate smiled sadly, giving him a flicker of a glance. "I found this one in her briefcase after—" She paused to clear her throat. "The police returned her personal effects once they had shelved the case. I used to think, if only she'd been shot…maybe this would have stopped a bullet," she laughed, a terrible dark, broken sound, as she lifted the book and showed it to him, edge on. "It's so thick it could stop a bullet, right? You must have done research on that?"

Kate already knew the answer to her question. But the childish part of her, that sliver arrested at the point of her mother's death, still clung to the fairytale answer that was, 'Yes. This book could have saved her life.'

Castle looked at her blankly and then with pity for her pain. He shook his head and croaked out, "Actually, no."

"Please don't look at me like that," she pleaded, setting the book aside to reach for her drink.

Castle stayed her hand before she could lift it with his fingers curled around her wrist. "Don't take that drink if you're doing it to forget," he urged.

Her voice was hollow and brittle. "I'm drinking because I've seen that look before. So I know how this ends, Castle. We've had a nice day. But I know how it ends." And then she shrugged off his grip and finished half of her Old Fashioned in one go.

Castle sipped from his own glass, quiet, deep in contemplation. Eventually, the questions got to be too loud inside his head and he had to let them out. "When were you going to tell me?"

Kate was sitting back against the red velvet seat and her eyes were closed. With her hair shining in the low light and the paleness of her complexion, she looked as regal as a young queen in repose. She opened them slowly. "Tell you what? That I carry an old copy of _Gathering Storm_ around with me when I know I'll be eating alone?"

"Flattered. But not that."

"Then what?" she snapped, taking another drag of her drink.

Her glass landed heavily on the table. The sharp crack of crystal on wood had an angry quality that Castle hated. This was supposed to be a good thing, an amazing thing – finding out that her mother loved his writing and that Kate had held onto his books. Instead, it felt like some dirty little secret she was hiding from him for reasons of personal pride. It felt mean when it should have felt joyous.

"You know what. The dedication."

There was nowhere left to hide. Her last hope - that he hadn't turned every page looking for clues while she was in the bathroom - dissolved into nakedness. She couldn't even blame him. Curiosity was in his nature just as much as kindness, optimism, loyalty and bravado were a part of the mix too.

She licked her lips. "Can you get me some water?"

He left the booth without answering her, returning in under a minute with a bottle of fizzy water and two fresh glasses. When he sat down again he didn't say anything, he left it to her to speak. It didn't take long, and once she started she spoke ceaslessly for a change.

"As I said, this book was with her when she died." She laid her hand on the cover and stroked her fingers across his name. "She always raved about your writing…but I couldn't bring myself to open it for the longest time. A few years later, I was on duty with my partner one day and we passed the Barnes and Noble in Union Square. There was a giant poster in the window advertising a signing session." She laughed. "Your face…I'll never forget your face."

Castle swallowed roughly and reached for the water. He poured two glasses so quickly that they fizzed up and overflowed onto the tabletop. He dabbed at the spillage with a bar napkin. "My face?" he asked, after downing a mouthful of water that burned his throat.

"On the poster," Kate clarified. "You looked…kind of smug."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Anyway, I had a day off and as fate would have it…" She turned to look at him with a slightly sarcastic edge to her smile that surprised him. "And I know how you love to talk about fate," she continued, oblivious. "So I showed up and I stood in line for a couple of hours…" she shook her head. "I don't know what I was thinking or what I was trying to prove. Everyone had a copy of your latest book and there was me like little Orphan Annie clutching a battered copy of—"

She stopped talking. One minute she was spilling her heart, albeit with venom, and the next she had her eyes screwed shut and her lips tightly pursed together as if she wanted to disappear in on herself and never come out again, filled with self-hatred.

Castle shifted uncomfortably in his seat and then he said, "Please tell me I was kind to you?" in the quietest voice possible.

Kate released a watery sob that had him cringing inside and imagining the worst that he could be back then, in the years before he met her and she began the uphill task of humanizing him without ever asking for the job.

"You were lovely, actually," she admitted, and Castle let out a 'thank God' breath of air. "Some woman, I don't remember if it was Paula…she stepped in to object to me bringing an old book along for signing. But you brushed her off. I didn't tell you the whole gruesome story…just that the book used to belong to my mom…that she was a big fan, and then you asked me my name and you signed it for me."

Kate opened the front cover and turned to the title page. There, in slightly faded black Sharpie, were the words: ' _To Kate, may you find magic and solace among these pages as you follow in the footsteps of your mother. Best wishes, Rick.'_

Kate traced her finger over Castle's signature while he watched her closely. There was a reverence to her touch and he shivered under the strange sensation that it was his skin she was stroking and not just some forgotten dedication written in ink almost a decade ago.

"Reading my mom's old books made me feel closer to her. You were right. Your words made me feel less lonely too. They made me believe that there could be justice in this world. If you worked hard enough and waited long enough, it would come. And then I arrested you," she laughed. "How's that for fate?"

There was a painful silence while Castle processed everything he'd just heard and Kate drained the last of her drink.

"How is it possible that I remember none of that?" he asked, as much of himself as of the woman sitting morosely beside him.

"I waited for two hours, there was a line at least as long when I left. Don't beat yourself up. I was just one face in a sea of faces that day. Unremarkable."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Well, believe it. I was the biggest wallflower in Manhattan back then. Uniform helped me blend in. Job helped me work towards my goal. There was nothing else in my life."

The irony was that not much had changed in all the years that had passed by since, beyond her change in rank.

Castle had no idea what to do or what to say. He felt a wave of grief wash over him – grief for Kate and all that she had been through and then a selfish grief for himself and for the perfect day they'd been having that now seemed to be in tatters.

Kate finished her glass of water, topped it up and drained the rest. "We should probably go," she said quietly, repacking her tote bag with the book and her hat.

Castle was all out of wise words and plausible turnarounds for what had just gone down and, as a result, he gave in this time. "Sure," he muttered, draining his own water glass and easing out from behind the table.

"Actually, I'm just going to visit the men's room," he told her, expecting her to say that she'd see him at work tomorrow if that was the case.

So he was completely taken by surprise when she offered to wait for him upstairs.

* * *

Kate stood out on the shady side of the street letting the cool breeze blow away the last of her tipsy edge. She felt bummed, was really the only way to describe it. Deeply disappointed that a civilized drink in a sexy little cocktail bar had turned into a confession session where she came off looking like a broken nightmare with this selfish secret she'd been hiding from him since he started shadowing her. Several times she had the urge to just hop in a cab and run away. She didn't even understand what kept her there, waiting for him outside the bar until he finally emerged from the darkness.

He'd clearly been thinking things over while downstairs too. It was etched into the grave lines around his mouth. "So, I just wanted to say that nothing you've just told me will go any further. You have my word," he promised, needlessly as it turned out.

This was not what concerned her most, but she nodded her thanks anyway and mumbled, "Appreciate that."

What most concerned her was how to repair the damage two strong drinks and an old book had managed to inflict upon their fledgling relationship, so that at least working together would not go back to being awkward. Given who she was, she had no idea how to fix it. But maybe she knew a man who could.

"How do we fix this?" she asked Castle, watching with rapt curiosity as surprise and then hope flared in his eyes.

"To fix something it needs to be broken," he told her after a thoughtful pause. When he reached for her hand, she startled, but she let him cup it between his own. His gesture felt like the beginnings of goodbye. "I don't see anything broken here, do you?" he asked, pressing a kiss to the curl of her fingers around his.

Kate let him kiss her hand and then she allowed him to keep holding it for far longer than they'd ever touched like that before. Part of her felt like weeping - his gesture was so kind and tender - and part of her felt relief for how he made her feel so understood. The stronger part of her felt like fighting, so she blurted, "Want to grab dinner?" just as his fingers slipped from hers.

The light in his eyes and the smile on his face were answer enough. She hailed a passing cab and they scrambled inside.

 _TBC..._

* * *

 _Thank you for reading._


	5. Chapter 5

_A Cure for Loneliness_

 _Chapter 5_

Kate eased a little further over in the backseat of the cab after Castle more of less fell in behind her when the driver took off kamikaze-style before he'd barely gotten the door closed.

"Did you tell him where we're going?" he asked, since he'd been a little too preoccupied with not leaving one of his shoes or a limb behind on Watts Street to have heard her issue any instruction.

"Yeah, all good," Kate told him without actually telling him anything.

But at this juncture in the day Castle would follow her into the fiery depths of Hell just so long as he heard the words 'all good' issuing from her soft, appealing mouth. And he really needed to stop thinking like that or prepare himself to be kicked to the curb, quite literally. He was pretty sure she _could_ read his mind by now if this sudden and unexpected suggestion that they have dinner together was any indication. Ice cream, a long walk, drinks and now dinner...his Memorial Day bucket list was being checked off fast, and he didn't even seem to be the one driving the agenda anymore.

While he clung onto the door on his side of the cab as the driver took the corner of Clarkson Street at speed, he felt Kate shift in her seat and he turned to look at her. She was staring up and out of the window, rather like a child on a day trip to the big city marveling at tall buildings for the first time. Castle settled back against the contradictory firm-sponginess of the dark vinyl upholstery while he attempted to let the stress of the last half hour or so wash out of his body. He wound up feeling sleepy and must have drifted off for more than a few seconds only to wake with a jump when the cab braked suddenly and his knee hit the hard divider in front.

He jerked awake. "Shit!" he cursed, rubbing his stinging kneecap. "Where are we?" he muttered, as he looked out of the window on his side to find Kate's apartment building skidding to a halt alongside them.

"This is your place," he said, stating the blindingly obvious. He knew her building on sight, might have checked it out on his way past once or twice after he found out her address from some NYPD source, though he'd never actually been inside. Okay, so he'd made a specific trip one day to spy on her place. He wanted to know how Kate Beck— Uh, Nikki Heat lived. But he would call it research until his dying breath if anyone dared call him a stalker. That was his story and he was sticking to it. He knew it was weak, but it was all he had.

Kate ignored Castle's mutterings while she concentrated on paying the driver and then gathering up her bags. She gave him a light poke in the side to get him moving and then she climbed out after him while the driver waited impatiently for them to exit. Bangladeshi music continued to play up front, and the driver's fingertips jangled erratically out of time with the wobbly sway of his head. The very second Kate slammed the door, he was screeching out into traffic, off and running again.

" _Jerk!_ " Castle muttered, glaring after the cab.

"How long have you lived in this city?" Kate was smirking at him, amused by his annoyance and its accompanied waste of energy.

Castle was the one who rolled his eyes this time.

He looked up at her apartment building and then back down at Kate. "So…what now? Are you cooking for me or is that not part of the plan?"

She looked sheepish. "I should probably have checked before I bundled you into the back of a cab."

"Well, I can think of no one I'd rather have for a kidnapper if that helps?" He gave her a disarming smile.

She glanced at the ground. When she looked up, she was smiling too. She tucked her hair behind her ear in a simple, humble gesture. "It kind of does," she admitted, shyly.

"You didn't have a plan when you told the driver your address, did you?" This was Castle's suspicion.

"No. No, I did," she protested. "Well, if you can count ordering takeout from the Italian around the corner a plan."

"Italian? Hmm. You wanna to eat in? Because we can go out if you prefer. It's your big day off, Beckett. My treat."

"Would you mind if we stayed in tonight?"

At these words, Castle became motionless. He stared at this woman he worked with, this enigma he had come to care about, deeply, while replaying her request inside his head.

' _Would you mind if we stayed in tonight?'_

Such perfect, sweet words - the words one lover might utter to another. Their intimacy and familiarity spoke of a warm domesticity, of habit and comfort, closeness and an us-against-the-world outlook on life. They hinted at repeat performance sometime in the near future. They also felt like the life Castle had a sneaking suspicion he wanted with this woman. In time. Here and now he wanted to calligraphy this question on handmade vellum - this simple question she had just asked him as if they did this all the time - and then he would frame it in ebony and hang it on his bedroom wall.

"Anything you want, Kate," he pulled himself together to tell her, humbled that she could still stand to be around him after the fiasco with her mother's book in that beautiful little bar. He would take her back there someday soon, he quietly vowed to himself, exercise today's demons and make it _'their'_ special place instead of his.

Her smile seemed filled with relief, by far the brightest she'd been since they left the speakeasy. "Great. I have a takeout menu upstairs. We can watch a movie or something while we eat. Not exactly Rock and Roll but then…"

 _"Rock and Roll's overrated,"_ they said in unison, laughing at this crazy synchronous brain thing they seemed destined to share.

* * *

Castle tried to temper his excitement as they rose, floor-by-floor, inside the elevator. "I hope you made your bed this morning," he blurted out of nerves.

Kate gave him one of her looks – the kind that you'd use if you wanted to skewer a butterfly to a board without the requirement for pins – and then she turned and walked out into the hallway on her floor. Castle scrambled to follow her before the elevator doors shut and he was locked inside, headed back down to the lobby alone.

Her place was neat. Super neat and stylish too, in an offbeat kind of way. Everything had been picked out over time, you could tell. It was more collated really, like a museum collection, not a hint of a decorator's hand in anything from the color scheme to the throw rugs, the art on the walls or the furniture itself. Though that it was well put together and exuded a heap of design talent was also true. It just felt warmer and more personal than the effect any pro might be able to deliver in order to satisfy a client brief.

"Nice place, Beckett," he said, appreciatively, as he took a moment to look around.

"Thanks. I'd say don't touch anything but…" She shrugged and smiled. "You don't do 'no touching', do you?"

Castle grinned and Kate saw his dancing eyes and the mischievous thought bubble that was rising above his head. "Oh, so many ways to answer that question," he teased.

"Yeah, well, let's stick to the meaning I had in mind for now."

"For now, _hmm?_ " One eyebrow quirked upwards while he considered her remark. "Well, I'll take that as a hopeful sign and promise to keep my hands off your knick knacks in the short term."

Kate kicked off her shoes by the end of the sofa and dropped her bags on the small kitchen counter. "Make yourself at home," she told him, handing over a menu for a local Italian she'd plucked from behind an 'I LOVE NY' magnet that was affixed to the side of the refrigerator.

When she had almost disappeared from the room, Castle turned to stare after her. "Wh—where are you going?" he asked, sounding like a little boy who feared being abandoned in a strange place forever.

Kate paused by the open door. Hanging on the frame she smiled, tilted her head to the room beyond and said, "To change," as if this answer was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh, right," Castle nodded and cleared his throat. "I'll just…" He trailed off, waving the takeout menu at her to indicate he'd stay right where he was and behave himself despite knowing that Kate Beckett was taking her clothes off behind the only wall that separated them.

* * *

He sat on the sofa, exactly where she had left him, for five whole minutes. He heard a faucet turn on somewhere and then shut off again. He thought he heard drawers open and close. Eventually, he got too fidgety to sit still. Kate's open-plan living room offered up too many tempting clues to this woman he'd become more and more infatuated with over time. Usually, when Castle got to know someone, the more he learned the faster the mystery dissolved, like an aspirin in a glass of water. But with Kate it was different. She was like a drug he'd got hooked on early and had ended up craving – the more he learned the more he wanted to know.

He was busy pawing over her bookcase when he heard a door open and Kate emerged from what he assumed was her bedroom. "Beckett!" he exclaimed, clutching a copy of _Wuthering Heights_ to his chest like the snooper that he was. His voice was embarrassingly high-pitched, both with surprise and from the guilt of being caught going through her belongings. Again.

Slowly, she shook her head. "Just couldn't help yourself, could you?"

Thank God she was smiling at him was all he had the brain capacity to think. Because there she was dressed in a wafer-thin white t-shirt and a pair of cut-off denim shorts with frayed hems and the pockets peeping out at the top of her tan thighs. She looked about eighteen-years-old with her hair drawn up into a high ponytail, and suddenly Castle felt every one of his own thirty-eight years.

He made a crazy face and shrugged. "Books, Beckett. Professional curiosity. How could I resist?"

She let him off with a dubious purse of her lips and a tweak of her agile eyebrow. "Did you decide on dinner?"

"All looks good to me. Is there a specialty you'd recommend?"

"They do this amazing lasagne al forno for two."

She was suggesting they share dinner. Things were definitely looking up.

"Can we have garlic bread?" he asked, eagerly.

"If you have no big plans to kiss anyone later, sure." She smirked when his eyes bugged out at her flirty remark.

"If we're sharing the garlic bread it won't matter," Castle replied with a boldness he kind of had to fake. Not that he didn't want to kiss her. He did, with every fiber of his being. He just didn't believe she'd want to kiss him any year soon.

The bare feet and legs, the bare arms and the low cut of her tissue-thin t-shirt all seemed to be signals he wasn't receiving.

She studied him for a second, her expression unreadable, and then she smiled quietly to herself as if she was making some kind of secret promise. He badly wanted to know what she was thinking, but he knew better than to break the spell by asking. All would become clear in time, he told himself.

Kate's ponytail bounced as she turned away to get the phone. "Great. DVDs are in that basket over by the TV. Why don't you pick one out while I call in our order?"

* * *

Castle surprised her with his movie selection. His cunning plan was to pick a double feature so that he could string the evening out as long as possible. She had a great collection, so he went with the longest he could find.

"The Godfather? Are you sure? Isn't it a bit… _long?_ "

If he got his way, and they also watched Godfather 2, they were going to be spending the next six and a bit hours cozied up together on her sofa. There was method in his madness.

"Got plans I don't know about, Beckett?" he asked. Already knowing that the answer was "no" made him bolder than he would usually risk, especially when she could simply throw him out when she tired of him.

"You know I don't," she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

It was at this point that a pain shot through his groin when he realized that she had nothing on below her t-shirt. Zip, zero, nada, nothing… _naked._ He had to tear his eyes away from her rather prominent nipples and the pale crescents of her breasts below to concentrate on the disapproving look she was giving him.

When the power of speech failed to return so easily, she walked away with a sigh of, "Fine, if that's what you want. But don't blame me if you fall asleep before we get to the end."

Falling asleep with Kate Beckett on her sofa was not the stupidest idea anyone had ever suggested. Thanks for the heads up on that one, Detective, he thought. Worst came to worst, he could fake being asleep just to get her to cuddle with him.

"Red or white?" she called from her tiny kitchen, holding up a bottle in each hand.

"Italian food. Why don't we start with the red," he suggested.

A smile blossomed on Kate's face. " _Start with?_ I see. Planning on a long evening?"

"Well, I couldn't find Godfather 3. But if we make it through the first two, we'll definitely need more than one bottle of wine."

Slowly, she shook her head. "You're really pushing your luck today, Castle."

"And how'm I doin' so far?" he smirked.

Her hazel eyes twinkled. "Open the wine for me and I'll let you know."

 _TBC..._

* * *

 _Thank you for reading._


	6. Chapter 6

_A Cure for Loneliness_

 _Chapter 6_

" _So..._ how long have you lived here?" Castle asked. They were sitting on Kate's sofa with plates on their laps eating lasagne.

"Mm. Five years," she replied around a buttery mouthful of garlic bread. She dabbed at her lips with a napkin. Their glistening surface stained the linen a pale yellow that was spotted with flecks of dark green parsley. Kate refolded the napkin stain-side in and placed it back across her bare thighs.

 _The Godfather_ flickered in the background while they ate and they commented on the movie now and then, but mostly it played on, ignored. About an hour had passed since Castle had been invited into her apartment for the first time, and he was still looking around with a keen eye, absorbing every tiny detail he could see and even a few that he couldn't; neither his curiosity nor his excitement abated.

"Like it here? Good neighbors? Where's the nearest subway station?" he asked, rapid-fire, without pausing for an answer or for breath.

Kate laughed. "What is this? Twenty questions? Watch the movie," she chided, elbowing him in the ribs.

"I'm just... _interested._ Can't a guy be interested in his—"

Kate paused with a forkful of pasta halfway to her mouth, the lasagne dangled on the end of her fork. "In his what?"

" _Friend?_ " he suggested, though his answer came out sounding more like a question. He frowned. It sounded wrong. It sounded lame.

"Friend?" she laughed. "Is _that_ what we are?"

Castle looked a little stumped. "Sounds kind of weird when you say it out loud. What would you call it?"

Kate had just taken another mouthful of food. "Hate labels," she mumbled, chewing all the while.

"Helpful," Castle muttered in turn. "I guess 'friend' it is if you have nothing better to contribute."

"Why are you so hung up on pigeonholing this?"

"Am not. You're the one who hates labels. What's wrong with 'friend' anyway? I'd call you my coworker, but since I don't get paid…" he shrugged. "Anyway, sounds kinda—"

"What?"

" _Less_ than what we are."

Kate arched her eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Beckett, why are you mocking me?"

She shook her head and smothered a smile with her napkin. "I'm not. I'm sorry. It's just you're being so serious all of a sudden. You don't do paperwork, so no way am I calling you my coworker. 'Friend' is fine if you need something to call it."

"It would be if you weren't so grudging about it."

Kate sighed. "Can we drop this topic before we fall out over nothing?"

But Castle wouldn't drop it. "I wish you'd just tell me what _you'd_ call it," he needled like a petulant child.

"Annoying. _There!_ That's what I'd call it. Now, are you done with this? I have ice cream in the freezer if you promise not to mention the f-word again."

He perked up at the mention of ice cream for the second time that day. "I can't swear that I won't mention the f-word again. Because you see that all hinges on the particular f-word we're talking about. And I know quite a few."

"Thin ice," Kate muttered, as she gathered up their dirty dishes and headed for the kitchen.

* * *

She returned a moment later with two bowls of ice cream and a top up for their wine. This short break away from sniping at one another over how they might box their relationship into some kind of neat category mellowed the mood. Castle had kicked off his shoes and slipped down the sofa cushions so that his legs were sprawled out beneath the coffee table. Kate had almost forgotten what it felt like to have a man in her space. Though she didn't feel the same way about all men, she found she rather liked having Castle around.

"Spoon," she said, handing him the silverware.

"Thanks."

Their earlier self-consciousness at spending time together – all day pretty much so far – especially in Kate's home, had eased. Human beings got used to all sorts of things after just a little adjustment period. This was a fact that had often amazed Kate; especially on the few occasions she'd had to visit people she'd arrested once they were settled in jail. Not that this was anything like that, of course. But her mind wandered a little further in that direction. Castle would not make the most objectionable cellmate should it ever come to that, she mused.

"What're you thinking?" he asked, catching her out a full minute into her little Department of Corrections daydream.

"Uh…nothing. Just watching the movie," she lied, flicking her spoon in the general direction of the TV.

"Did you just lie to me?" Castle sounded amused more than affronted.

Kate almost choked as a glob of vanilla slipped down her throat the wrong way. _"Excuse me?"_

He never called her out on her bullshit and she treated him likewise. It had become a kind of an unwritten rule between them almost from the start.

"It's okay if you did. I was just wondering," he informed her, breezily.

She frowned and narrowed her eyes at him. "Why would I lie? And why would you think it okay if I did?"

" _Well,_ I don't think you murdered anyone, so any lie is probably going to be minor. Plus, we're all entitled to our inner privacy. If you don't want to share your every thought with me, that's cool."

"What were _you_ thinking?" she challenged, to get out of this tight, sweaty little corner she'd backed herself into.

"That you have lovely feet."

She turned to stare at him, finding him a lot closer than she expected. "You were thinking about my _feet_?"

They both looked down at her bare toes, which were curled around the edge of the coffee table where she'd propped them up after she sat down to eat her ice cream.

"Yeah. You're a cop. You're on your feet a lot. You _run_ in those ridiculously sexy high heels."

"Which part is ridiculous? The height or that you find them sexy?"

"Nothing about them is ridiculous, believe me. Not in my book. Now a _podiatrist_ on the other hand…"

She rolled her eyes and sighed, " _Castle…"_

"What? I mean just look at them," he said, leaning down to scoop her feet up into his lap. In doing so he turned her towards him. "Perfect arches, long straight toes, and wow, cherry red! What a perfect nail color."

Kate set her empty bowl aside and tried to relax now that Castle had rotated her on the sofa so that her calves, ankles, and feet were resting in his lap.

"What are you doing?" she asked, warily, when he began massaging her heels.

"Helping you to relax."

"Why do I need help relaxing? Don't I seem relaxed to you?"

"Beckett, are you listening to yourself? You're practically screeching at me."

"Am not," she exclaimed indignantly.

"Fine. Then lie back and let me work on your feet."

"Why?"

"I already explained."

"To help me relax, yeah, you said," she muttered with annoyance, crossing her arms over he stomach.

With nothing to gain but proving him right if she refused, she lay back against the far arm of the sofa and submitted to his surprisingly expert touch.

* * *

After a moment or two of his fingers massaging her arches, she let go enough to stop worrying whether he could see right up the legs of her short shorts all the way to her panties. These old denim cutoffs, which she'd actually owned since college, were probably not the best choice of attire for her partner's first visit to her home. But it was a hot day, her A/C was inefficient, and her black cropped pants had felt too constricting to keep wearing if they were going to be slobbing out at home.

A moment or two later, when she let out an unguarded moan of pleasure, they both froze. Castle had run the meat of his thumb up along the inside of her instep and the sensation sent a spark of heat right between her legs. Her body throbbed in intimate places and she felt a rush of heat chase up her neck. Castle's gaze avoided her face. He seemed to be fixated a little lower, on her nipples, which had tightened in response to the same stirring sensation and were now cresting rather obviously beneath her thin shirt.

"Well, that was awkward," she found herself admitting just to break the stalemate of silence and avoidance.

"Awkward wasn't the word I'd choose."

"But of course, you wouldn't," she told him witheringly.

"Should I continue or…"

Kate shrugged, trying to act like she didn't care one way or the other when in truth she craved his touch.

"Lying again, Beckett," he tutted, treating her to a slow, amused shake of his head.

"Just shut up and rub my feet," she huffed, blushing when he laughed at her.

* * *

After a minute or two more, while Kate attempted to focus her energy on the TV screen, Castle moved from her feet to her ankles. She sighed this time and sank further back into the cushions, already over the shame of letting him know how good this felt if only so that he'd continue.

He worked up her calves, which were tight from walking and running in heels, and she found herself tingling with anticipation the higher up her legs he rose. When he lifted her legs and threw them over his lap so that he could scoot closer, she barely kept her cool.

"Hi," he said, grinning once he was right beside her.

"Hi, yourself," she grinned back, feeling silly and girlish and could her guard be any lower. She felt her pulse beating a little faster.

"Mind if I…?" he asked, gently laying a hand above her knee.

Kate clenched the apex of her thighs together, trying to quash the throbbing heat she could feel building between her legs.

When she didn't answer him, Castle laid one large hand either side and began to massage her quads. Finally, when her choices became whimper and spread her legs for him or get this runaway train back under control, she eased herself out of his lap and placed her feet back on the coffee table.

This left them almost squashed together on her sofa, hip to thigh, an opportunity Castle had decided he was not going to let go to waste. He leaned back against the cushions, smoothly slid his arm around her shoulders and settled her into his side. They watched the movie in silence or at least they pretended to. Kate was far too aware of him, her… _friend,_ with his warm body pressed up against hers, to concentrate on much of anything beyond breathing. He smelled so good, so familiar, and the solid weight of him resting against her was intoxicating, dizzying...her heart rate jumped up a notch and stayed there, pounding unrelentingly in her ears.

* * *

After five minutes or so of very loud silence, Castle leaned in closer, like it was no big deal, and pressed a lingering kiss to her temple. His lips landed right by her hairline. Just a micro second later, he felt her stiffen.

"Castle, what are we doing?" she asked. "Are we— Is this a mistake?" She pulled away to look at him, in the beginnings of a full-on panic. "We're two lonely people. You said so yourself. Is that all this is? You're lonely and you want a warm body to cuddle up to? Doesn't matter who."

Castle sat bolt upright, dislodging himself from her. "How can you say that?" he demanded. He seemed genuinely upset.

"How can I _say_ that? Because just a few weeks ago you were willing to walk away for good."

"That still bothers you, doesn't it?"

"Of course, it bothers me."

" _Why?_ Tell me why, Beckett? I thought you hated having me dogging your heels all day long."

"Don't," she begged, biting her lip. "Don't do this, please?"

"Don't do what?" he asked, his voice suddenly mellowed by concern at the fear he could see in her eyes.

"Make me explain."

"Explain what? Beckett, what are you so afraid of?"

"You," she exhaled.

He jabbed his chest. " _Me?_ "

She nodded. "Yes. You. This. Us."

"Why?"

"I finally got to a place where I like having you around."

"So that's a good thing, surely?"

"I don't want to ruin it." She hugged her arms around her body as if cold.

"How would being… _friends_ ruin it? I don't understand."

"We're talking about crossing a line here, Castle. The other side of that line is _not_ the friend zone. You know that."

"Yes. But you don't like labels, so I didn't know what else to call it."

"I can't be your little fuck buddy. I'm not made like that."

"You just said the f-word."

She threw her napkin at his face and he snatched it out of the air. "Screw you! Can't you be serious for five seconds?"

"I am. Deadly serious. But you need to calm down."

"Calm down? Don't tell me to _calm down_ in my own apartment."

"I don't think the neighbors need to hear our first lover's quarrel."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Did you just say the _l-word_?"

"Oh, for God's sake, Beckett. Grow up."

Kate jumped to her feet and pointed to the front door. "I think it's time you went home." She spoke these words with the darkest of control. Somehow that was more frightening than when she yelled.

Castle stood. He dropped her napkin on the coffee table like a spent wish. "I think maybe you're right. This was clearly a mistake."

"What was?" Her heart was sinking fast, tonight was slipping out of her grasp. She was pushing him away and that was the last thing she wanted but she couldn't seem to help herself.

" _This._ " He waved his hand between them in frustrated fury. "Thinking we could be more than…than whatever you're comfortable calling it."

She glared at him, her hands on her hips and her chest heaving.

"Look at you. You're terrified to get close to me and yet everything you've done today screams out that you want this as much as I do."

"Oh, really, Dr. Freud. How do you figure that?"

"First of all, you tell the cab driver to take us to your apartment without consulting me. Clearly you had your big seduction routine all planned out."

Kate made a choking sound, but Castle ignored her indignation and carried on ranting.

"No sooner are we up here than you're changing into the skimpiest clothes in your closet."

Her mouth flew open.

"Yeah, don't think I didn't notice your lack of underwear," he said, waving a hand in the direction of her chest where her missing bra required no evidentiary proof.

"Is that all you've got?"

"Italian food? Best way to a guy's heart is through his stomach. Seduction 101. The wine, the ice cream, the curling up on the sofa…"

"Are you done yet?" She was furious.

"No! Not by a long way." So was he.

Their eyes blazed, and for several angry, speechless moments they teetered on the passionate cusp of stay or go. Finally, the spell was broken and they flew at one another with all the fury of the sex-starved.

 _TBC..._

* * *

 _Thank you for reading._


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Rating change to 'M' for this chapter._

* * *

 _A Cure for Loneliness_

Chapter 7

The sensation of Castle's hands moving beneath her thin shirt had Kate tearing her mouth away from his simply in order to breathe. She gasped a sharp, _"Fuck!"_ as he smoothed his palms up along her ribcage, somehow managing to span her narrow body with his fingers while he circled her nipples with his thumbs and then smothered the weight of her breasts with the warmth of his large palms. She burned everywhere he touched her, a flickering, aching heat that spread like tinder catching fire across her skin.

This guy's hands! Inanely, she wondered if he'd ever thought about having them insured. Then she wondered: if he was this good with his hands, what other body parts might he wield with equal skill? But he cut her off before she could take this thought any further, muddying her mind with his playful banter.

"Another, f-word, Beckett," he scolded against her jaw before wiping her brain of any coherent response when he latched onto her neck with the meaty suction of his open mouth, slowly dragging tongue and teeth over her collarbone and then soothing this punishment with the press of lips that seemed impossibly soft for a man of his size and power.

"Don't mark me," Kate murmured distractedly, the words and her tone working in equal and opposite direction when it came any definitive meaning or an actual instruction. Her brain was failing her. Her ' _friend'_ had some serious skills.

Castle played nice though and moved on. But this only made her clutch at him harder, wanting him back and not wanting him at all, the turmoil like a thundering fury of need inside her that ached and would continue to ache until she did something about it. This was a need she feared, for as she'd already explained: she couldn't be his friend-with-benefits. Never only that. She wasn't built that way. Not for anyone and certainly not for him anymore.

* * *

She felt him grasp the hem of her shirt and with his mouth right next to her ear he whispered, "Is this okay?"

Kate shivered and moaned some incoherent sound of approval, matching it with something of a distracted nod as her own fingers shifted to begin work on the front of his shirt.

Wearing no bra, she was bared to him in a heartbeat. He tossed her t-shirt to one side and turned all of his attention on her. He let his hands rest on her narrow waist, holding her out in front of him as if for inspection, his thumbs brushing back and forth over her jutting hip bones like windshield wipers. Despite his track record with women - information Kate had briefly researched in the early days just to prove a point to herself, one which failed to bear fruit - he regarded at her with something close to awe; as if her body somehow went above and beyond any he'd ever seen before. She'd be lying if she didn't feel special in that moment, if he didn't take one look at her breasts and make her feel more adored with a simple look of longing than any man had ever managed to made her feel.

When he covered her right nipple with his mouth, she had to pause in her efforts with his buttons, unable to think or make her fingers function while he worked her body like he owned it, already party to all of its secrets. She slid her fingers through his hair and held his head to her while he teased her nipple into the stiffest little pebble, flicking it around with his tongue, circling and sucking on her areola and then blowing to cool and torture her more, before moving on to the other side and a repeat performance that left her shuddering and weak at the knees.

Eventually, the blood returned and her brain was able to function. She managed to open his shirt all the way down the front until the two sides flapped open and she had access to acres of warm, smooth skin. He was impressive: toned, his skin soft and honeyed from time spent in the sun. His scent was intoxicating in its maleness, it's very _Castleness_ , arousing from this familiarity alone. She felt a flush spread up her neck and her face grew warm. She was giving in to a need she'd tried to temper, to hold back, and this act of giving in thrilled her even more.

She spread her hands up his stomach and across his chest, thrilled by the firmness of the musculature beneath her fingertips. "Off," she commanded, plucking at his shirt, only for her words to be robbed from her lips by another bruising, hungry kiss.

She felt the button on her denim shorts pop open and then the purr of the zipper coming down. Cool air greeted the lower half of her abdomen and, glancing down, she glimpsed a small triangular portion of the bright purple panties she'd been wearing all day, a tiny pink bow winking up at her.

Before she could reciprocate on Castle's jeans, his fingers were slipping down the front of her shorts and cupping her through her damp underwear.

" _Fuck,_ " she heard Castle groan against her neck when he felt how her arousal had soaked through her panties already. "You're so wet."

Kate let out a breathy giggle that shocked even her. "I think we need a swear jar," she said.

"Screw it, I'll cut you a check right now if you want," Castle cursed, assaulting her mouth with his tongue and his teeth until she was forced to break away once more, her lungs begging for air.

Their breathing was labored and they clung on for balance, both chests heaving in time. They eyed one another fearfully, caught up in a heated moment of crazed lust, wondering how far to take things. And more than that, how far was too far at this point?

Kate nodded off Castle's wide-eyed stare. "Go on," she urged, realizing that he was waiting for permission to carry on touching her, to move beyond clothing and get down to business.

"Sure?" he checked again, pressing a kiss to her cheek and nuzzling her nose with his own in a gesture that felt more loving and tender than she expected from him at this early stage. "You're one hundred percent sure?"

She nodded. "Castle, I want you to touch me. _Touch me,_ " she whispered against his cheek.

She arched up on tiptoe and clung to his shoulders when he slid his hand beneath her panties, cupping her while his thumb joined the party last, sliding down the groove that led to her clit and hovering there, holding her maddeningly still while she throbbed with a white hot, pulse in the palm of his hand.

"Move. Please?" she begged, inching her legs open wider to give him more access and to entice him on. She was still wearing her shorts, and though they opened far enough to allow his hand inside, the restriction of movement was in turns a frustration and a total turn on for how it trapped his fingers hard against her sex.

Eventually, after she nipped at his jaw, he withdrew his hand a little way, smearing her wetness liberally over her labia before he parted their silky folds and slid back in again, finally stroking through her slippery heat with the dexterous skill of a blind man.

She hung onto him, her arm around his neck. "Oh, God," they both groaned at the flood of sensation. He stroked back and forth a few times, fingering her with two stiffened digits that she began to ride, coasting her hips in a controlled, rhythmic motion back and forth over the hard ridges of his bones, already trying to get herself off with this moderate friction.

"Too many clothes," she complained after a moment, feeling her body getting closer and closer to release, but wanting to feel his naked skin against hers when she finally came.

"You want me to stop?" Castle asked, misinterpreting her protest.

"Only to get naked," she surprised him by saying.

"You're sure?" He was being chivalrous. To a fault. And Kate wanted none of it.

"Castle, when I tell you to get naked, don't ask me if I'm sure. Stop being so polite and get your goddamn clothes off."

"Yes, ma'am," he laughed, with the pitch of a giddy child, breaking the tension between them.

* * *

With just shorts and her soaked panties to remove, Kate was naked first. Castle was so distracted by her body that he could barely concentrate to remove his own clothes.

"You're…you're _stunning,_ " he confessed, missing the fastening on his jeans for the third time in a row before Kate stilled his hands and then popped the metal jeans button open for him.

She moved back a little distance to lie down on the sofa, and Castle hovered over her, openly staring as she spread herself out beneath him while he undid his cuffs and then finally stripped off his shirt and threw it across the room. His erection rose pointedly to one side of the opening in his boxer shorts as soon as his jeans were on the floor. Beyond the obvious engorgement, a damp circle in the pale blue fabric spoke to his advanced state of arousal, as it had done with Kate.

She held her arms out to him and motioned him down on top of her. He knelt carefully, with one knee between her open thighs and one on the outer edge of the cushion, bearing his weight on his hands and arms until he lowered over her. She arched up to kiss him and ran one hand through his hair, teasing his scalp with her nails. When she brushed his ear with her mouth, he shivered. "Let's take these off," she suggested, tugging at the waistband of his shorts with her toes.

Once he was completely naked, she reached for him, encircling the silky smoothness with her palm and stroking up and down his hardened length. She watched the strain on Castle's face as he closed his eyes against this bliss and arched his back, holding himself in careful check while she wrecked merry, torturous hell on his body. His arms trembled and his Adam's apple bobbed when she moved to stroke his balls, watching with tingling anticipation as his rigid length danced against the pale plane of her forearm.

Finally, out of patience for the main event, she tugged him down towards her. He opened his eyes, swallowing nervously and staring at her in wonderment. She smiled and nodded, parting her knees even wider so that his head nudged at the entrance to her core. After a couple of misfired attempts, he took himself in hand and eased the very tip inside. He paused, his gaze locked with Kate's the entire time, before a nudge of his hips and an arching of hers pushed him beyond her entrance and he slid inside, finally joining them together.

Kate gripped one muscular shoulder, savoring the intrusion, feeling the slow drum beat of her own body as it pulsed and tightened around his tumescent length. She smoothed her other hand over his hip and around to his buttock, better for leverage to guide him in and out. She was hungry for this, the fear that had held her back all this time forgotten in her reckless intoxication.

They moved slowly to begin with, watching one another, and wasn't that the sexist thing: their gaze locked both in shock and amazement that they were doing this at all, that this surprising day, this box of delights, had brought them here.

"Feels good?" Castle whispered, roughly, his eyes cloudy with a mixture of lust and concern for her.

"Mm," Kate hummed in agreement, giving him a nod. Her smile was lost to the call of pleasure and her eyes slipped shut. " _So_ good," she concurred, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip.

Gradually, they began to pick up the pace, an effortless, intuitive motion that came from somewhere primal. His body glided easily in and out of hers, and soon Castle settled into a rhythm that allowed him to ravish her breasts one minute and then wipe her mind to a blank slate with the stroke of his tongue pulsing in and out of her mouth in time with the thrust of his hips.

He kept her senses confused. In no time at all, he had wound her higher and tighter, until she thought her body might explode. Kate thrashed her head against the cushions and clawed at whatever she could reach, but inch by inch Castle took command over everything. She panted and moaned and chanted his name without any thought to how needy she sounded or how desperately she clung onto him. Her nails dug crescents into his buttocks and back as she urged him further and deeper inside of her, using him and cursing every time he hit the sweetest spot and her control threatened to give way.

Finally, skin glistening with sweat and almost out of breath, her pleasure reached its peak. She felt her body seize and begin to flutter, muscles spasming around the thickness of his length, and, for those last few seconds, she rode him even harder, using each tight surge and glistening withdrawal to drag every last ounce of sensation from her orgasm.

Once Castle was sure she'd reached a release, he allowed himself to let go and follow her over the edge. Grinding until he cried out and bucking to a stop when he spasmed, spilling hotly inside her. He stole the last of her breath with a punishing kiss that made her lungs burn and her vision white out, then they collapsed on her sofa in a heap of shaking limbs and naked flesh.

* * *

"Wow!" Kate laughed, the first one of them to make any coherent sound beyond that which was necessary to stay alive. "Happy Memorial Day! Don't think I'll forget this one in a while."

Her laugh sounded a little crazed and Castle opened his eyes to check on her, swiping at his face just in time as bead of sweat ran down his nose.

He eased off her a little. "You okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Kate gave him one of her trademark looks - withering blended with warm amusement.

"I didn't mean _that_ ," he chided, realizing that she thought he was boasting about his manhood or his sexual prowess.

"Good," she said, slapping his bare ass.

After a moment in which they merely looked at one another, silly with exhaustion, she reached up and pulled him to her for a more tender, lingering kiss than he ever would have expected from Kate Beckett, especially after sex. She was smiling against his lips and that fact alone made his heart hammer hard for her.

"You sure you're okay?" he checked again.

"Castle, I'm great. Now stop fussing and help me get up before we stain my sofa and I have to get the cushions dry cleaned."

"Bossy, beautiful _and_ great in bed," Castle teased, before easing out of her, grabbing a napkin and then helping her to her feet.

 _TBC..._

* * *

 _Thank you for reading._


	8. Chapter 8

_A Cure for Loneliness_

 _Chapter 8_

Once they were both vertical again, the teasing, giddy mood began to dissipate. Fast.

Uncertainty bred greater uncertainty and the longer they stood there facing one another, the more uncomfortable the moment became.

"Can I…?" Castle looked around. "Is there someplace I could clean up?" he asked, with an abashed look on his face that bordered on shame.

This was not the post-coital behavior that Kate had been expecting. If she'd thought about it at all. Her fantasies, and sure she'd had plenty - even when she hated him she'd wanted to screw his brains out – but they always ended with her screaming something her mother would not have been proud of and then fade to black. So she was in new territory here. But had she been asked to sketch a likely 'after' this was not what it would have looked like: Rick Castle shuffling from foot to foot, so awkward in his nakedness that he looked ready to grab the nearest accent pillow and hug it to his nether regions.

Somehow his panic fed her calm, this was her home turf after all. So she could help him right now, she could, while she figured this out.

"Sure. Bathroom's in there," she told him, pointing to the door beyond her bedroom. "Take your time. Have a shower if you want. Help yourself to towels and…yeah, just whatever you need. Help yourself," she trailed off, watching him walk away before she'd even finished speaking.

Kate picked up her rumpled t-shirt up pulled it over her head. As a piece of clothing, it barely covered her essentials, but it would do for now. She had less issues wandering around her apartment without her modesty covered than the previously swaggering writer seemed to have, which was a rather curious fact in itself. She hoped he wasn't suffering from a case of buyer's remorse barely a minute after climaxing inside her. If so, his haste seemed rather indecent.

She began gathering up the assortment of his and hers garments littering her living room floor. Castle definitely seemed strangely subdued when he'd gone off to shower. The sex had been great, she'd thought, so she was pretty sure it wasn't that. She got a couple of bottles of water from the refrigerator and took them to the bedroom with the rest of their stuff, pondering all the while.

She was still folding Castle's clothes and laying them out on her bed when she heard a light tap on the doorjamb.

"Hey," she said, as brightly as her own uncertainty would allow. "Find everything you need?"

Castle had one of Kate's navy towels wrapped low around his waist. Apart from that he was still naked and his hair was slicked back, right off his face, gleaming blacker than black from the shower. It was a look she'd never seen on him before. He seemed younger and pretty sexy too, with his face scrubbed to a shine, his forehead pale where the sun couldn't reach it, and his muscular body no longer hidden beneath the trappings of wealthy adulthood. He also looked pensive, which was not a good sign.

"Yeah. Found everything, thanks. Everything except for my clothes," he said, pointing to the neat bundle piled on top of the comforter.

Kate felt her cheeks warm. Unconsciously, she had mothered him. Without even thinking about what she was doing, she had folded his shorts right after they had sex? Next thing she'd be doing his laundry and reminding him to eat more vegetables. "I'm sorry," she blushed. "Just…force of habit. Tidying up. When you live alone…" She trailed off with a shrug, muttering, "Well, anyway…"

The silence felt itchy and uncomfortable, the room too hot and awkward with both of them standing there staring at anything but one another.

Kate took a deep breath, preparing to dive in and fix this, and then she had second thoughts and paused. But how would she turn this around if she didn't say something for once, when it was called for, instead of leaving all the heavy lifting to her partner. So, she took another deep breath and said, "Castle, can we talk?"

His eyes snapped to her face like a magnet. "Look," he sighed, holding up his hands to stave her off. "I already know what you're going to say. So, for both our sakes…" he shook his head, "please don't bother. I get it. You don't have to say anything."

Kate felt as if she'd been punched in the gut. But instead of wounded, she felt angry. "Wow! So you're a _mind reader_ now. When did _that_ happen?"

"Beckett—"

"No, why don't you let _me_ speak for a change? Hmm. Instead of trying to second guess everything I have to say?" She sounded genuinely upset and this seemed to get his attention and shut him up.

"Fine," he sighed, blowing out a long puff of air that inflated and then deflated his cheeks.

"Are you sticking around right now or do you need to get home?" she asked.

He paused with his boxer shorts in his hand. "I didn't think you'd want me here."

"Castle, I'm asking. But if you can't or you don't want to then that's cool too. I won't be offended."

He seemed perplexed by her offer. "No, I have nowhere I need to be. I just assumed you'd want space."

God, he was exasperating, but then this wasn't exactly news. "Stop assuming that you know everything about me. Please. We'll get on a lot better if you don't. What I need right now is a shower. I'm…eww, yeah. Gross," she said, plucking at the front of her shirt which had stuck to her sweat-coated skin.

Castle dropped his towel and pulled on his underwear. Kate continued to watch him. She was giving that opportunity up for no one.

"There's water by the bed," she informed him, grabbing a clean change of clothes for herself from a drawer.

Castle noticed she'd placed a bottle on each of her two nightstands.

"Uh…which side is—"

Without pause, she retorted, "I try not to take sides." Then Kate flashed him a wink at which he did a double-take. "Look, just relax. Do whatever. I won't be long. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen that takes your fancy."

Unusually, this opener did not draw a salacious quip from the writer. Things really were that bad.

"I have popcorn and chips," she added, hoping the pathetic offering of salty snacks might perk him up. But when there was no visible change, she left for her shower wondering what to say next to improve his mood.

* * *

Kate showered perfunctorily, her mind not really on the job. She used the time alone to think about what she wanted from today's turn of events and about what might be wrong with Castle. Instead of making them closer and easier around one another, sleeping together seemed to have him on the verge of checking out early, maybe for good. That was not what she would have expected nor wanted from this situation and it certainly wasn't what she expected of the Rick Castle she thought she'd gotten to know.

Maybe he wasn't a cuddler, her brain suggested. Could it be as simple as that: she'd misjudged the playboy for a real man when his bedroom style was actually closer to: 'wham bam thank you ma'am' and don't let the door hit your ass on the way out? But that felt like the biggest load of B.S. she'd ever told herself. He'd started out as a jackass but he'd grown kinder towards her, devoted in his own peculiar way, he'd shown depths to his personality that she never would have guessed at in the beginning. He'd turned down the chance of his dream job, a glamorous well-paid gig, to continue working with her in the grubby, underfunded, politically hamstrung New York Police Department while writing about her fictional counterpart. The inference from such a life-altering decision was that she still inspired him as much as she had the night she arrested him at his Derrick Storm book launch party. So what was going on with him now?

She shut off the water and climbed out of her tub, still in a quandary over her shadow's behavior. If she let him pursue the path he'd started out on, things would get awkward between them very fast. Working together would become an impossibility given the countless hours they spent in close confines most days of the week. This couldn't be how things came to an end. Having him around made her job a little easier, and after today she had a feeling that keeping him round could make her life a lot more enjoyable too.

She grabbed a towel and began drying herself off, deciding to look at the situation from a different angle, a more analytical perspective: treating it like a case. That he liked her wasn't in question, she could put that in the solid fact column. That he had something of a poor track record with women was also not at issue - there were two ex-wives to attest to that and numerous fleeting dalliances in his past if you believed the press. That they turned one another on and had proven to be more than sexually compatible was also not the trouble here. No, ma'am! If she isolated the writer's normal behavior - in so far as Rick Castle's antics could ever be described as 'normal' - he held pretty much to one course of action where she was concerned: he put her first, he was fiercely loyal, he respected her wishes (other than when she asked him to stay in the car or out of her mother's case), he appeared to need her almost as much as she needed him, if today was anything to go by. So what then was this?

Her conclusion: he was afraid that she didn't want this too. He was afraid they'd crossed a line and that she would quickly come to her senses and regret it. He was trying to hold onto some sort of friendship with her because he thought that was what _she_ wanted: for him to back away slowly leaving them with no nasty entanglement of the heart to unravel. She hated herself for making him think that this was how she'd want this situation to play out. Having control over the day-to-day was one thing, but not at the expense of making space for good things and wonderful surprises to come into your life.

She rubbed lotion on her skin and tied her hair up into a ponytail and then she quickly got dressed in fresh underwear and a short satin robe. She had to nip this fiasco in the bud and set Castle straight before they grew further apart rather than moving closer to one another.

* * *

When she reentered her bedroom, Castle was sitting on the edge of the bed with his feet firmly planted on the floor. Even with his back to her, he seemed to sense that she was there. She watched him hunch further over his knees, his head tipped forward, staring at the rug. He had put his jeans and shirt back on, only his socks were missing. A cursory glance put them inside his shoes, which were lined up beside the door as if for a quick getaway. Kate bristled when she saw them.

She opened her mouth to tell him so, but before she could even make a sound, Castle spoke first.

"I know you'll hate this…"

She stopped by the end of the bed and crossed her arms. "There you go again, making assumptions. What is it you think I'll hate this time?"

He gave her a grim, sidelong glance. He looked like a condemned man. She almost wanted to laugh, he seemed so miserable. The man clearly had no idea. "Beckett, I need to know what this means," he explained, almost wincing as he forced the words out.

Kate nodded. "Right. Yeah. I guessed as much."

He lifted a hand and let it smack back down on the comforter with a thud. " _See!_ You hate the thought of the question, never mind the answer."

She took a step closer and then another. "Will you just shut up for a second? I was actually going to say, if you'd give me the floor for once: I can't do casual, Castle. Okay? I…I don't want to work alongside you and have to watch you date other people anymore. So, if that's what you want, I'll respect your wishes, of course. But I'd rather you told me now and we can go back to just being friends. Forget tonight ever happened."

Castle frowned and gave his head a little side-to-side shake as if clearing water from his ears. "Sorry, what exactly _are_ you saying? Just to be clear."

"I thought I was being clear."

"You just fucked my brains out, Beckett. Humor me."

Kate laughed in surprise and it broke the ice, perfectly. They both laughed with relief after that, watching one another with wary hope and the fizzling remains of their own uncertainty.

She sighed. "Look, I didn't sleep with you today because it's another holiday I would have spent alone _or_ because I'm lonely or because you bought me ice cream, or even just because you happened to be there, Castle. I slept with you because I'm _deeply_ attracted to you…just in case that wasn't already clear." She laughed, self-consciously, feeling her cheeks flame. "And, wow, am I _ever_ making a mess of this…"

He reached for her hand and tugged her closer. "You're…no, Kate, you're not. Please, continue."

She stood between his open knees and she placed her hands on his shoulders. "I like you, Castle. A lot. And I don't really know where to go with that right now. But…like I said, if you still want to see other people after tonight…I'll understand but—" She was shaking her head.

"Do you? Want to see other people?" he asked.

"What? _No!_ That's what I'm trying to tell you."

"Okay. Good. Great." He sounded relieved. Relieved enough to carefully rest his hands on her hips, the beginnings of a smile warming his eyes.

"Good?" She smiled. "Does that mean…"

His eyebrows danced a little jig. "I think it means we're going steady, Detective."

"Shut up!" Kate pushed him back onto the bed and threw a pillow at him. But Castle caught it, laughing like a little kid at her discomfort.

"Hey, that's what you've been angling for all along. You're just too chicken to ask outright. Or are we back to the whole 'label phobia' thing again?" he teased, gesturing with a pair of air quotes which he knew would annoy her even more.

Kate stabbed at her chest in indignation. " _I_ was too chicken? You were the one _leaving_ here with your hair still wet. I've never even _seen_ you with anything less than perfect hair. You would have left skid marks out on the sidewalk you were running away so fast."

He tugged her down into his lap where she sat sidesaddle, her bare legs draped over his thighs. "Well, I'm not running now," he pointed out, flicking his gaze down to her lips and then back up to meet her eyes.

Kate leaned in and kissed him, a soft, hesitant kiss that gradually built into the bonfire they now knew they were capable of igniting. Castle slipped his arms around her and held on tightly.

"Can you stay the night?" she asked, stroking his ear between her thumb and forefinger. She punctuated the question with a lighter, briefer kiss.

"You want me to?"

Kate rolled her eyes. "Do I have to beg?"

Castle ran his hand up her thigh. "Tomorrow is Tuesday," he said, arching an eyebrow as if this was somehow majorly significant.

"Yes. Thank you, Siri," Kate answered sarcastically, unsure why he would point out this fact.

Castle snorted at her sardonic humor. " _So,_ you're back at work," he grinned.

" _And?_ "

"Well...how'd you wanna handle things?"

She paused to think for a second. "Need to know," she nodded, definitively.

" _So,_ basically, we tell no one?"

"Exactly, partner. For as _long_ as humanly possible," she whispered as she allowed her mouth to descend on his.

They made out on Kate's bed for a little while, exploring one another with slow deliberation and gentle care. She rid him of his shirt for a second time that night and he managed to wriggle out of his pants all by himself this time. They whispered to one another as they made love, exchanging glances, offering honest commentary about what felt good, guiding hands to sensitive spots, unafraid to expose their secrets or cry out as they finally came with their eyes locked; two eager lovers learning and improving all the while.

After round two, they lay naked on top of the comforter staring up at the jellyfish-shaped stain on her bedroom ceiling. There was no rush to get up or get dressed this time, just the comfort of being close to one another as they curled up, still talking quietly and holding hands.

"You want popcorn?" Kate asked, pressing a kiss to Castle's biceps a little later, when their stomachs began grumbling and a midnight snack was called for.

Castle stroked her hair and leaned in for another kiss. "Salty or sweet?"

She grinned, preparing to indulge him. "Don't tell me, you like to mix both."

He lifted the hem of her tiny silk robe with his toes when she got up out of bed and smiled lazily. "Beckett, you know me so well."

"A lot better than I did this morning, that's for sure," she threw over her shoulder as she sashayed out into the living room.

It was only as she was putting popcorn into the microwave that she realized: for the first time in a very long time, she didn't feel lonely anymore.

* * *

They decided to stagger their arrival at the precinct the next morning. After taking Castle to the loft to change his clothes, Kate parked her car a couple of blocks away from the Twelfth and they said their goodbyes inside for fear of someone seeing them together. Castle went to a local cafe to get their coffee, while Kate headed to the dry cleaner round the corner with the shirt of Castle's that she'd just spent the night sleeping, and doing _other_ things, in.

"See you inside?" Kate smirked, teasing him with a light brush of her lips: a barely there kind of kiss that she now knew would madden him.

Castle slipped his hand behind her neck and held her to him for a proper kiss. He slid his tongue into her mouth just to feel her shiver beside him and hear her moan. "You really think we can pull this off?" he asked, resting his forehead against hers.

"We have to. God knows what Montgomery would say if he found out."

"And the guys."

"Oh, they'll be clueless. Don't worry about them," she said, waving her hand dismissively.

" _So._ Dinner tonight? My place?"

Still caught in a dreamworld daze about the last twenty-four hours, Castle wanted to secure a plan for them to keep this fantasy going for as long as he could. His disbelief was sweet, almost flattering, but Kate saw right through it and she was happy to do whatever it would take to reassure him that he wasn't about to wake up to some huge, heartbreaking disappointment.

Her smile was all at once excited and a little predatory. "I was hoping you'd say that. I packed a bag," she whispered, palming his crotch and groaning when she felt his body begin to respond, instantly, beneath her hand.

Castle grabbed her wrist and removed it. "Stop that this second or I'm stuck in this car until lunch."

Kate giggled, stole a final kiss and then she turned away to open her door with the biggest smile on her face. "See you in the madhouse," she called over the roof of her car before giving him a wave and walking away.

* * *

The line at the coffee shop was unexpectedly short and so Castle managed to arrive first. He whistled his way from the elevator to the bullpen, carrying their coffee cups and a bag of sticky pastries. After all the energy they'd expended in the last twelve hours, they could certainly use the carbs and a little extra sugar.

"Hey, Castle. You sound chipper. How was your weekend?" Ryan asked, perky and polite as ever.

Castle inwardly kicked himself for sounding too happy. He tried to temper his mood by knocking the whistling on the head and wearing a more neutral expression. "Pretty low key. Slept a lot," he said, with an offhand shrug.

" _Boring!_ " Esposito sang from behind his computer.

Beckett arrived mere seconds behind him, but he thought they'd given a pretty good impression of not having seen one another since Friday when she gave him a perfunctory nod of greeting and swiped her coffee cup before she even took off her coat. So far, so normal.

But Ryan was on her in an instant. "Hey, Beckett. Castle spent most of his weekend in bed. How about you? Tell me you got up to something more adventurous?"

Kate gave Ryan a mysterious look that was meant to tease and seem a little superior, as was her style. "Staying in bed can be adventurous. All depends who you're with."

Esposito let out a wolf whistle. _"Yeah, mama!"_ he cried, pounding on his desk.

"Oh, good point. Hey, Castle, who were you in bed with?" Ryan turned to ask the writer.

Castle tapped the side of his nose. "Kevin, a gentleman never tells."

He was doing so well until his eyes cut to Beckett's face and Esposito caught the look he gave her.

"So, Beckett, what'd you do?" Esposito asked, turning his attention and his growing suspicion on his boss.

Kate shrugged out of her light jacket and hung it on the back of her chair, then she busied herself with the stack of files on her desk. She found herself desperate for any distraction from this impromptu interrogation that had kicked off mere seconds after she'd arrived for work. And on so little sleep too!

She half-shrugged. "Oh, pretty much the same. This and that. Worked up an appetite. I...I mean worked _out_... _worked out_ ," she stressed. "Ate a lot of ice cream. Nothing special."

Now that her jacket was off, Ryan peered a little closer at his boss. "Beckett, is that a _hickey_ on your neck?"

Kate's hand flew to the exact spot he was referring to and she covered it, guiltily.

Esposito looked from Castle to Beckett and back again, sensing something in the air. He narrowed his eyes as he watched the fidgeting writer whose attention was now one hundred percent locked on Beckett as he mouthed the words, ' _Nothing special?'_ with an expression that was a blend of indignation and amusement.

Esposito pounced. "Yo, Castle! Man, you got one too? Lemme see, bro…" he demanded, as he lunged for the writer's gaping collar.

Both Castle and Beckett froze, their eyes like saucers.

Ah, the best laid plans...

[Fade to black]

* * *

 _A/N: So there you have it. As Bugs Bunny used to say, "That's All Folks!" I'm guessing from the lower number of reviews for the last chapter that you guys don't like reading M-rated stuff. Duly noted. I hope you enjoyed the rest of it and that Ch7 didn't spoil it for you. Thanks for reading. Hasta luego, muchachas! Liv x_


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